Color, Magic Color
by TheRealEatsShootsAndLeaves
Summary: Come spend a lazy day off with the royal couple! Lipstick! Smoochin! Glitter! Foolin' around! Dancing! Cheese Puffs!
1. Chapter 1: Lipstick and Nail Polish

_This is a Labyrinth fanfic. All characters belong to Henson, et al._

**_THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR MATURE READERS DUE TO LEMONY GOODNESS._**

_Author's Note and General Warning:There isn't much plot happening here; just a fun and lazy day off. Nothing bad is going to happen to anyone. Everything depicted is (very) consensual and friendly between two grownup characters. This will be quite tame to start with and then slowly get more involved. This content is not intended to be graphic, but it will be fairly clear about what is going on. I am more interested in depicting the emotional landscape and character interaction._

_This is a writing exercise.I am trying to establish tone and mood, adhere to a theme, work with characterization and maintain continuity across five chapters. Your reward for reading this writing exercise is a healthy dollop of smoochin', foolin' around,' and gettin' it on._

**_Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah_**

**Color, Magic Color**

Chapter 1

Lipstick and Nail Polish

Eyes gleamed in the darkness behind her.

She sat cross-legged and unaware on the rumpled, white, unmade bed, quietly filing her freshly cleaned nails. She was comfortably lounging in a soft white cotton tank top and grey drawstring pajama bottoms, barefoot, relaxed and smelling of strawberries from the scented shampoo of her still damp, dark, silky hair. A litter of makeup and pillows surrounded her. A bag intended to hold the cosmetics lay open, spilling tubes and bottles of color and glitter on the bed. She paused and closely inspected her right index finger. The nail was nearly down to the quick. She wrinkled her nose and narrowed her emerald eyes at the offending fingernail. It would have to do. Her other nails were an attractive length and perfectly coated with a glittering deep red polish. This nail would just have to be really short for a while, she supposed. She was determined that it would be perfectly smooth, though, and she busily ground down a nearly imperceptible roughness from the tip of the nail.

Behind her, a dark shape silently stalked closer in the velvet shadows. The moving darkness resolved itself into a slender, draped figure with strange blue eyes peering through a soft golden drift of feathery hair. The figure silently removed a dark cape, allowing it to fall soundlessly to the floor. Slender, long-fingered, artist's hands gloved in buttery-soft leather rolled up the sleeves of a loose, white shirt as if preparing for a task; or perhaps a battle. He stepped behind her, his boots never making a sound on the stone floor. Thighs clad in clinging grey breeches tensed as he gathered himself to pounce.

When he abruptly laid hands on her, she dropped the nail file and gasped in air, making ready to shriek in surprise, but his mouth immediately covered hers before she could make a sound. He had leapt onto the bed and was crouching over her, with his hands clasping her face, kissing the breath right out of her. He pushed her onto her back and rocked forward onto his knees, placing his hands on the bed on either side of her head. His mouth never left hers. He nibbled her lower lip, slid his tongue across her upper lip and then into her mouth. He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest, as she captured and conquered his tongue with her own.

He jumped when she slapped his behind. He raised his head and grinned into her smiling face.

"Shouldn't you be in the throne room by now?" she said.

"There isn't anything there that requires my attention at the moment," he replied as he rolled off his knees and sat down on the bed.

She sat up and had started to look for her nail file when she saw the boot prints. Her eyebrows went up and green eyes sparked with annoyance.

"Jareth!"

He startled, looking confused.

"No boots on the bed! You've got dirty boot prints all over the sheets. Again!" Her hands were on her hips and she glared at him in exasperation. "Get the boots off the bed."

He crossed his arms and glared right back at her. "So what?" he testily replied. "There are plenty of sheets. I don't care much for your tone either. I think I ought to be receiving a little more respect around here because…"

She held up a bottle of dark blue iridescent nail polish. His favorite. "I'll do your nails," she coaxed.

Boots and sheets became completely irrelevant as he fixed on the shimmering polish. Oh, yeah, he was all about the nail polish. Without another word, he began pulling boots and socks off.

She smiled to herself. Her high maintenance darling loved nail polish. She presumed that the whimsical trait had something to do with his somewhat inhuman, shape-shifting barn owl nature, but she was happy to indulge him. She loved to pet and cosset him just as much as she loved to tease and squabble with him.

Even if she had bothered to ask Jareth, he probably would not have given her a straight answer as to why he liked the nail polish so much. In truth, it really didn't have that much to do with the actual nail polish. He did, of course, like the glittery stuff, and it was quite a turn on for him to watch his dark blue sparkling fingernails drifting across her milky skin, slipping in and out of secret places. He liked to have his toenails polished as well, even though he seldom went about barefoot. The real reason that he liked nail polish so much, was that he craved the attention he received when she applied the polish. He particularly enjoyed having her intently focusing on any part of him, but he also liked the entire process, the preparation of cleaning and drying the nails, the filing and buffing, the actual application, being waited on while the polish dried, and in addition to all that, he really, really liked having his feet caressed. He feigned ineptitude at all times regarding nail polish and thus far, had never applied any himself and likely never would. She always did his nails, and always without any magical assistance.

He had told her early on that he preferred to do everything "by hand" in the bedchamber, oh tingling happy thought, and she fully agreed, having experienced the advantages of doing so. He was adamant about this and never did one of his abracadabra wardrobe changes there, preferring to manipulate buttons and ties by hand, and he would walk out the door before performing any magical transport. He would summon crystals in the dressing room, the bath room, on the balcony and even in the clothes closet, but never in the bed chamber. When the boot printed sheets were finally changed, it would be done by the little goblin linen maid without the use of magic. In all of his magical kingdom, this was the one place where spells were not cast. Only the normal and quite wonderful magic of lovers took place here.

"Magic is built on illusion and glamour." he had said to her on their first night together, "In this room, things will be real."

She remembered his words as she watched him mutter curses and struggle with the extremely snug leather boots that had likely been magically donned in the dressing room.

While he divested himself of his footwear, she grabbed a tube of hot pink color and began to liberally apply it to her lips. She had the wicked thought that he could use a little extra color in addition to the nail polish. She put the lipstick down and cheerfully ogled him as if he were a particularly delectable confection.

Happily oblivious, he tossed boots and socks onto the floor behind him and removed his gloves, folding the supple leather and placing the gloves carefully out of harm's way. He turned to her with an innocent smile and pleasant thoughts of sweet, sweet attention. His eyes widened as he saw her intent and he braced himself for impact.

This time he ended up on his back with her leaning over him. She kissed him firmly on the mouth leaving a pink smudge on his lips and then moved her attentions to his neck. He attempted to put his arms around her but she told hold of his wrists and pinned them on either side of his head. He laughed softly as she nibbled a hot pink path up his throat and then he yelped and bit his lip when she gently fastened her teeth on his earlobe, smearing color on his ear. She continued to manipulate his lobe with her tongue as she stretched her body against his, sliding her thigh into position between his legs and let her weight bear upon him. He hissed air through his teeth when she gently but deliberately rolled her hips and pushed her warmth against him. When she released his wrists, his hands remained where she had placed them as if he were helpless to move them. She drew back, pulled his shirt apart and paused to take in his beautiful face. He was looking at her as if she held his life in her hands.

"Say my name," he pleaded.

"Jareth," she said softly. "Jaaaaarrrrreth," she stretched the word into a soft and low invitation, spoken with gentle humor and not-so-gentle lust. Her eyes met his, her hair falling lightly onto his chest. "My Jareth." Her voice trailed off into a murmur as he closed his eyes and rolled his head to the side as if he could not bear the delight of his name on her lips. "Mine," she whispered. At that moment, she felt giddy with the power she held over him and at the same time, was taken with a desire to soothe and protect him against that power.

She took hold of his chin and tilted his head back toward her.

"Look at me," she said.

He obediently watched as she lifted the hem of her tank top up to her throat, exposing her fair skin to him. A tiny smile curled on his lips. Laying down full length on him, she met flesh with flesh and wriggled just enough to extract a small murmur from him. Taking her sweet time about it, she began to place small, delicate pink kisses all over his face, his brow, his cheeks, his eyelids, his temples, his jawline, his mouth… When she reclaimed his mouth, she thrust her tongue between his lips and bore down on him with a growl deep in her throat, pushing his head roughly into the mattress, then she backed off and became gentle again. With the lightest of touches, she tenderly slicked and tickled every part of the inside of his mouth with her tongue while she pressed and moved against him with her entire body. Her kiss was long and thorough and the full body caress to which she was subjecting him became more emphatic and rhythmic. She became aware that he was making an almost imperceptible soft humming whimper every time he breathed out.

She lifted her head and gazed at her beloved's face. He was flushed and panting and his strange blue eyes were glazed with pleasure. Smears of pink mixed with light beads of sweat. She could feel his need hard against her abdomen. She sat up, tugged the hem of her tank top into a more modest arrangement, crossed her legs and reached for the hand mirror.

He sat up, looking dazed and disheveled and feeling a frustrated discomfort in his nether regions. With great satisfaction, she held up the mirror so he could see her handiwork. He looked upon the hot pink mess that was himself and snorted in amusement. His face, throat and chest were smudged and printed with pink. There were even traces of pink in his hair.

He made to reach for her but she leaned away and shook her finger at him.

"Ah, ah, ah," she said, "I have to do your nails, first."

"Sarah, you are remarkably and unsurprisingly cruel," he sighed, and leaning back into the pillows, he placed a foot on her lap.

**_Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah_**

_Boots on the bed. Every Laby fanfic writer knows that Jareth NEVER takes his boots off the bed unless Sarah gripes at him first._

_Reviews are as welcome as smudgy pink kisses._


	2. Chapter 2: Nail Polish and Cheese Puffs

_This is a Labyrinth fanfic. All characters belong to Henson, et al._

**_THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR MATURE READERS DUE TO LEMONY GOODNESS._**

**Color, Magic Color**

Chapter 2

Nail Polish and Cheese Puffs

She was painting his toenails.

She was sitting cross-legged between his knees with her back turned at an angle toward him, cradling his right foot in her lap and holding his second toe steady while she gently worked on the nail. He lay quietly on his back, submitting utterly to her attentions. He had made a half-hearted attempt to remove the lipstick with which she had marked her territory earlier, but he still had some traces in his hair and on his throat, and in addition, another quick kiss had reprinted his lips with pink. His eyes were gazing, unfocused, into the air above him and he was completely absorbed in the sensations of her touch.

She liked his feet. They were slender, sensual and perfect, much like his hands. The dark blue shimmering polish stood out starkly against his pale skin. She resisted the urge to kiss his ankle bone, something that she knew he liked very much. She decided she would save that for later, and proceeded to the next toe.

He turned his head to the left and sighed contentedly. His gaze became sharper as he spotted something hiding in the bed sheets.

A bag of cheese puffs. Messy orange cheese puffs smuggled from Above. In the bed. And she had the nerve to yell at him for boot prints. He momentarily wondered if she had actually been eating cheese puffs for breakfast, but dismissed the thought in favor of pondering this development.

He hadn't forgotten about being scolded in the middle of his attempt at seduction that morning and decided that the cheese puffs might offer some opportunity of small retribution. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her as she bent over her task. She was meticulously painting the nail of the piggy-who-had-roast-beef toe. It felt great. If he took this moment to point out her hypocrisy regarding the cleanliness of the bed sheets, she would stop caressing his feet and he certainly didn't want that.

He looked back at the cheese puffs. He liked cheese puffs. He would start by eating all her cheese puffs. She was sure to be annoyed and would probably gripe at him. Arguments were always fun. He smiled and snatched the cheese puff bag from the sheets. He frowned at the bag. It was a huge bag. He couldn't eat all that. Well, fine, he'd eat what he wanted and think about his next move. He unfastened the wire tie holding the bag shut and reached into the bag.

The munching noises behind her told her that he had found her cheese puffs. If that annoying sneak thief had asked, she would have been happy to share her cheese puffs. He didn't need to think he was going to get away with just taking them, though; and while she was doing his nails, too, the ungrateful scalawag. He would pay for his perfidious pilfering. She finished the piggy-who-had-none toe and proceeded to the small toe while considering her options.

As he munched he switched hands while holding the bag. Presently he noticed that this meant that both of his hands were covered with powdery orange cheese puff residue. Some of the residue was falling onto his chest, too. He was getting orange powder on his shirt. Such a pity the delicious morsels were so messy. He looked at her sitting in her pristine white tank top and then down at his orange powdered hands. He had a perfectly lovely idea; an idea that could wait until she was finished fondling his feet. He continued to nibble on the cheese puffs.

"There," she said. "Your toes are beautiful now." She placed his foot flat on the bed beside her.

He smiled, set the cheese puff bag aside and carefully sat up behind her. She was still sitting between his knees and was in a perfect position for his scheme. He reached around her and tenderly clasped both breasts in orange powdered hands. She gasped and closed her eyes as he lightly put his teeth on her neck and touched his tongue to her skin. The thought, "little pink tongue", drifted through her mind, drawing a memory along behind and a thrill shivered down her midsection to nestle, smoldering and heavy, into her lap.

"YOU are beautiful now," he murmured. He pulled her back against him and continued to fondle and caress her through her white tank top with his clever orange fingers, while nipping gently at her earlobe, and then her jawline. She turned her head back toward him and he moved forward to meet her lips in a delicate, feather-light kiss. She draped her arms around his bent legs and was just able to reach his ankles. She began to softly stroke and tickle the smooth skin over the sharply defined bones. She knew he liked that. He growled into her neck and slipped his hands under the hem of her tank top to meet bare skin. She was soft and warm and his fingers leisurely slid over her. The muscles in her chest tightened and she leaned back against him, tilting her head back over his shoulder. He sighed and nuzzled his face in her hair. It smelled like strawberries. Oh, how he adored her.

She wiggled and moved until she was half turned toward him. "You, Sire, have stolen my cheese puffs," she said in a menacing voice.

"Oh, do tell," he said, with smug impertinence.

"Yes," she said in her best British-lady-of-the-manor accent, as she grasped and removed his hands from her, "and you must be dealt with. Such larceny cannot go unanswered." She took hold of his open shirt and pulled it off his shoulders and part-way down his arms, effectively turning the shirt into a restraint.

"Don't you dare move," she threatened, dropping the badly mangled accent. "You'll wreck your nail polish."

He burst into laughter at her warning and waited to see what she would do next.

She snatched up the cheese puff bag and thrust one hand into the bag, withdrawing a fist full of orangey goodness.

"Steal my cheese puffs, will you?" she exclaimed in feigned indignation, and she ground the puffs in her hands into powder and smeared some on his bare chest and stomach. He yelped in surprise and started scuffling back away from her.

She grabbed him by his sexy little ankles and brought him to a halt, whereupon he leaned back on his elbows and regarded her with suspicion and lust. First she gave him that planned kiss on his anklebone which included a little nip of the arch of his foot and another yelp from him. Then she leaned forward, put one hand on each of his thighs, pushed his legs apart and put her hand on him, gently kneading and stroking.

"Now, where are you going, my King?" she asked. He squirmed a little, and she could feel him stiffening in her grasp.

"Nowhere, my Queen," he answered with a grin.

She crawled forward up his body. When she reached his waistline, she licked a trail through the cheesy powder on his torso. She could feel his stomach muscles twitch under her tongue. "MY cheese puffs," she growled.

"And now, I'll have at you," she said with a more serious note in her voice and she pushed him down flat onto his back. A tremor of anticipation danced at the base of his spine.

She reached back and snagged a lavender scented, pre-moistened towelette from a little packet that was sitting amongst the cosmetics. She briskly wiped the orange powder from her hands, while gazing into his eyes with dangerous promise. She leaned forward and untied the fastenings at his waistband and roughly tugged his breeches open and down a bit. He flinched as the cool air struck him. She moved up so that she was looking straight down into his eyes. He looked up at her, wide eyed and enthralled, as perfectly still as a mouse captivated by the hypnotic gaze of a serpent. She gave him a comforting smile and a chaste kiss. She gently touched his face and stroked his cheek, then settled back. She was kneeling, with his thighs pressed together between her legs, and her behind over his knees, holding him down. He flinched again when she took hold of him. Her touch was firm, gentle and sent a shiver through him.

"Aren't you the handful," she smirked, stroking the silky skin of his abdomen with her free hand. He tilted his hips up to meet her touch and grimaced, knitting his brow and displaying some very sharp teeth.

"Look at me," she said, when he closed his eyes. He opened his eyes and met her intent stare. She moved her hand on him, squeezing and releasing, stroking and gripping. His gaze dropped to her hands, captured by the red glint of her nail polish. Seeing what she was doing knocked the breath out of him. His feet clenched and his toes curled as his trapped legs flexed. His arms were restrained but his hands clutched at the sheet beneath him. He felt as if he were falling through a great space and had to hold on to something.

She was using both hands on him now, stroking him with one hand and tickling and delighting with the other. All the time, she was watching his face, searching his eyes, saying "Look at me, look at me," every time he started to close his eyes or failed to meet her gaze. Tension built within his body as waves of pleasure washed up from her hands. He groaned her name as every muscle from his head to his toes tightened. He abruptly and involuntarily thrust his hips once, then twice.

She smiled. "Do you like this?" A fiery streak of desire and power burned through her as she hungrily watched him take pleasure. He looked back at her with eyes not quite focused, his attention turned inward to the sensations rising from her touch.

"No, it's horrible," he said in a breathless voice.

"Guess I'll just have to try harder then," she said and increased both the speed and pressure of her caresses. He writhed under her hands, and made soft, breathless, wordless sounds, but she was unrelenting and gave him no mercy.

She watched in fascination as he thrashed and bucked. At last, he threw his head back, with spine arched, jaw open and eyes squeezed shut. A low cry of fulfillment came from his throat as he pulsed in her hands. At that moment, he was so beautiful to her that a shard of painful want pierced her heart. Her desire was for him; her beautiful, pain-in-the-ass, sweet, over-bearing, darling lover. She smiled as he quieted. She released him and waited for him to catch his breath and open his eyes.

When he met her gaze, his eyes were dark and his lids half-closed. A light mist of perspiration and cheese powder glistened on his torso. Beads of sweat on his forehead dampened the flyaway hair that spilled over his eyes. He lay as if he were boneless, completely relaxed and at ease.

"And how doth my King fare?" she asked.

"The King doth fare pretty damned well," he answered with a sleepy grin.

His eyes slid closed only to open a moment later. She was gently wiping his abdomen with a damp cloth, another one of those Above, scented, pre-moistened cloth things of which she was so fond. He realized what she was doing and luxuriated in the feeling of being cared for. She casually ignored the cheese puff and lipstick residue, considering that he deserved to be a bit colorful, but as for the rest, she continued to clean him, gently, thoroughly and leisurely. He watched her with complete adoration, feeling warm, safe and loved. When she was done, she completed her task by straightening his breeches and refastening them and then she took hold of his shirt and helped him sit up, pulling the shirt back up so that his arms were no longer restrained.

"Do you plan on stealing my cheese puffs again?" she asked.

"After that punishment, I'm going to steal every bloody thing that isn't nailed down," he replied.

She tilted her head back and laughed. He smiled at the bright orange hand prints over her breasts. That tank top was pretty much ruined.

"You destroyed my shirt, too," she said. He gave her a wide, leering smile.

"Paid you back," she said pointing at his groin.

He looked down to see that he was wearing an orange hand print on each thigh and one large smeared print on the crotch of his breeches.

"Oh, bollocks," he said.

**_Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah_**

_Reviews are as beautiful and welcome as blue glitter nail polish._


	3. Chapter 3: Cheese Puffs and Eye Shadow

_This is a Labyrinth fanfic. All characters belong to Henson, et al._

**_THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR MATURE READERS DUE TO LEMONY GOODNESS._**

**Color, Magic Color**

Chapter 3

Cheese Puffs and Eye Shadow

He was trying, unsuccessfully, to brush the cheese puff crumbs and powder off of the sheets. Much of his failure was a result of the orange powder still adhering to his hands. He wasn't so much brushing the orange off as he was spreading it on. He wasn't particularly concerned about the crumbs, himself, but he didn't want her to be sufficiently bothered by the crumbs to get up and see to changing the sheets. He had plans that required her continued presence.

She watched him brushing the sheets and wondered why he was bothering. She had plans for him that would get the sheets much messier than they were right now.

"Come over here," she said. "You've got that orange stuff all over your hands and you're just spreading it around everywhere."

He gave her a glance and kept brushing.

"Let me wash that orange stuff off," she said, more emphatically.

He paused and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Please," she said.

He sniffed and crawled over to her.

He placed a smacking kiss on her lips and sat down cross-legged beside her. She took his left hand and started energetically scrubbing with one of her favored, lavender scented, pre-moistened cloths.

"I'm never going to get this stuff out from under your fingernails," she said, inspecting his orange cuticles. She picked up a nail cleaner and proceeded to gently remove the orange residue from under his nails. He was perfectly content to sit quietly beside her and be tended, and was, in fact, wearing a blissfully idiotic expression.

She noticed his happily blank aspect and decided to wake him up. She put the pre-moistened cloth and his cleaned left hand down and determined to use a different method to clean the cheese puff residue from his right hand.

She lifted his right hand to her lips, paused to look intently at him and then put his index finger into her mouth. He blinked in surprise and met her gaze. She began to lave his finger, rolling her tongue over his knuckles and sucking at his fingertip. He rewarded her efforts with a startled gasp. She removed his finger from her mouth and was pleased to note that said finger was no longer orange at all. She turned his hand over and delicately tickled her tongue across his palm.

"Do you like that?" she asked, pausing to select a different finger.

He responded with a wordless murmur.

"Oh, say your right words, my fluffy widdle owl, or I'll have to go back to the little pre-moistened cloths," she said with a wicked smile.

"I am not a 'fluffy widdle owl'," he said with asperity.

"Oops, wrong words," she said, "pre-moistened cloth, it is."

"No, no, I wish you would keep going," he quickly interjected.

"Of course you do," she said and kissed the underside of his wrist where his pulse beat against her lips.

Wearing a particularly satisfied expression, he leaned closer, slipping his free hand around her waist and up under her orange smeared tank top. His fingers tickled their way up to the side of her breast, where he paused to gently touch and feel of her softness. She breathed in sharply and with her free hand took his hand and moved it to a more satisfying position. He immediately obliged her wishes by finding her taut peak and teasing it with his fingertips.

He put his face next to hers and thirstily drank in the image of her mouthing and tonguing his fingers.

By the time she had licked the cheese puff residue from his entire hand, he had scooted closer and changed position so that she was sitting between his knees. He was busily, and somewhat roughly, handling her breasts. With both hands free, he was able to double his efforts. She and he both became a bit out of breath.

"Let go of those," she said finally, and moved away from him.

He gave a short bark of laughter and released her.

"I still have to do your fingernails," she said.

"It can wait," he said. "It's my turn to decorate you."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and waited for his next move.

He began to dig through the scattered cosmetics. He extracted six shades of eye shadow, a tube of mascara, and a tube of eyeliner from the colorful debris. A little further digging produced an eyebrow pencil. He put his findings in a small heap and then turned to her.

"Come," he said, holding his hand out to her with an air of command. A thread of heat flared through her midsection. Despite the pile of cosmetics around him, the colorful smears adorning him, and his willingness to offer himself up as her plaything, he could conjure and manifest the powerful presence of a king in a heartbeat. It wouldn't do for her to mention that she found his alpha maleness to be sexy. Alpha Jareth and Obnoxious Jareth were closely akin. If she made any indication to him that he should try to live up to some expectation of alpha manliness, she might just be putting up with an obnoxious twit for the rest of the day.

She decided that, for today at least, she would rather play with Cuddly Jareth. She promptly scooted over to him, kissed the ticklish spot beneath his ear and ran her fingers lightly over his ribs, eliciting a squirming chuckle from him.

The two of them sat down with their legs stretched in front of them. They did some wiggling and shifting and finally ended up with her facing him, sitting between his knees, with her legs resting on his thighs. She momentarily wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and hugged him soundly.

"Patience, Love," he said and reached for his selection of cosmetics. She scooted back a bit and settled comfortably.

He selected a color and opened the case. He dabbed the brush into the palette and then paused, peering at her eyes with a critical air. He leaned forward and began to gently apply color.

She closed her eyes and sat absolutely still. He was leaning close enough that she could feel his breath sighing against her face. Little tingles of pleasure fell every place the brush made contact. She couldn't imagine what she would look like when he was done. His ventures with cosmetics tended to be quite theatrical. She was sure it would be spectacular and interesting. She was also sure that this felt wonderful and she hoped it would take a while.

She could hear clicking and snapping, indicating that he was changing colors and cases. She was almost certain that he was not applying the makeup in any symmetrical fashion. One side of her face was likely to look very different from the other when he was done.

She was also certain that the kiss he suddenly placed on her neck had nothing to do with eye shadow.

"Are you finished?" she said in surprise.

"Oh, no," he said. "Just taking a break. Keep your eyes closed."

She laughed and then murmured softly when he pulled the hem of her tank top up to her neck. She felt his fluffy hair against her collarbone and sighed when his tongue flicked against her tightened nipple. She was startled and let out a squeak when he suddenly took her into his mouth and began to suck. He was sucking hard, too. He wrapped his arms around her and held her still while he continued to suck furiously. She clutched at his shoulders and rolled her head back, groaning from deep in her throat. His continued attentions shot bolts of pleasure though her. It was almost too much.

"Jareth, that's starting to hurt," she gasped.

"Sorry," he murmured and switched to her other breast. She heaved a sigh of satisfaction and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

Abruptly his mouth left her. She felt his breath against her neck as he laughed softly. "You are quite delicious, Precious. I want to feast on you."

After a moment, she heard a cosmetic case snap open.

"You're stopping?" she panted.

"Mmm …no," he replied. "I haven't even started on the highlighter, yet."

"That's not what I meant," she muttered darkly. She heard him snickering and opened her eyes to glare at him.

"Ah, ah, ah. Eyes closed, Sarah." He was holding a brush loaded with sparkling emerald shadow and was wearing a self-satisfied expression.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

They resettled themselves. He drew the brush across her brow and then down the side of her face near the hairline. She could hear more clicking and then a small popping sound. When she felt a line being cautiously being drawn along her brow, she realized the sound was the cap being removed from an eyebrow pencil. She also realized her tank top was still around her neck and made to pull it down.

"No, no, that's just in the way," he said. "Hold still, so you don't disturb my artwork." He carefully pulled the formerly white tank top over her head and tossed it onto the floor beside the bed.

"Since when does the application of eye makeup require the removal of one's shirt," she asked, amused.

"Since now," he said and she suddenly felt a brush swirl around a swollen and sensitive peak. She made a tiny sound of delight and shivered as every little hair on her body stood straight up. That felt wonderful. She hoped he would do a lot more of that.

The brush began to trace the bottom of her rib cage. He paused to reload the brush and then embellished her collarbone. She could hear the rustling of the sheets and soft clattering of the cases as he changed colors and brushes. He began to hum to himself.

He really was enjoying this, she thought to herself, and so was she. He seemed to be covering her entire chest and stomach, occasionally running the brushes up the side of her throat and over her shoulders. He gave most of his attention to her breasts, circling and teasing. The soft kiss of the brushes drawing across her body was both relaxing and stimulating at the same time. She realized that he had been very deliberate with his powerful kisses on her breasts. They were quite sensitive now and felt every tantalizing stroke.

"My clever goblin," she thought and she arched her back and jiggled a little bit for his benefit.

She heard him groan and then a clatter as he dropped the brushes. A smug little grin stretched across her lips as she felt his arms encircle her and his lips clasp onto her again.

"Tormenting woman," he growled against her skin, and began to nuzzle and lick. She made him crazy and she did it on purpose. He absolutely adored her.

She opened her eyes, laughing. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back.

"Jareth," she grinned, "what about your artwork?"

He looked back at her with an expression of minor annoyance.

She had to extricate herself from the jumble of legs to reach the hand mirror. She crawled back to his side and held the mirror up so they could both see.

Her hair was tangled and sprinkled with bits of orange. Her lips were smeared with hot pink. Her torso was covered with a kaleidoscope of color and pattern that ran from her belly button to her collarbone, up her throat, to the sides of her face to her eyebrows. It was beautiful, intricate and sexy. There was however an obvious flaw, a smeared portion on her left breast where one clean, pink nipple peeked out.

"I can fix that," Jareth muttered near her ear. He was looking into the mirror and seemed chagrined by the flaw in his handiwork and a bit startled by his own appearance. He had orange flecks of cheese puffs, streaks of pink lipstick, and smears of blue and green eye shadow in his hair. Speckles and smears of orange adorned his forehead, pink lipstick was still smeared on his mouth and now a blur of light blue was on the left side of his mouth and on most of the left side of his face. His chest and breeches were profusely daubed with cheesy orange powder.

"You want me to finish your nails, now?" she asked.

He blinked at her for a moment and then falling back onto the bed, began to laugh out loud.

**_Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah_**

_Reviews are as tasty and welcome as a delectable orange cheese puff._


	4. Chapter 4: Glitter, Glitter

_This is a Labyrinth fanfic. All characters belong to Henson, et al._

**_THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR MATURE READERS DUE TO LEMONY GOODNESS._**

**Color, Magic Color**

Chapter 4

Glitter, Glitter

She was done applying the polish to his fingernails. He was splaying his hands out in front of himself, admiring the way the little sparkles caught the light. He was happily looking forward to being pampered while the polish dried, when she took hold of his hand and started putting a coat of clear liquid on his nails. She had put a topcoat on his nails before, so he assumed that must be what she was doing. She quickly did all ten fingernails and then capped the bottle. She leaned into him and gave him a one-armed hug.

"There, your nails should be dry, now," she said. "I used some Insta-Dry."

"What?" he said. He didn't like the sound of that.

"Here," she said and wiped the oily Insta-Dry from his now dried and set polish with a lavender scented towelette.

Well, that was disappointing, he pouted. He had been hoping to be hand fed with some more cheese puffs. Not that he wanted more cheese puffs per se, but he did want to be hand fed. He loved it when she coddled him, couldn't get enough of it, in fact, and took advantage of every opportunity he could get. His years of painful loneliness and neglect were done, as far as he was concerned, and he was making up for lost time.

"I don't like this Insta-Dry. It smells peculiar," he said, glaring at her as she wiped her hands with the towelette.

She wasn't buying that for a second, but was canny enough to figure out what his real problem was. She had thought perhaps he would like the Insta-Dry, but if he didn't, that was fine. She liked fussing over him. He was always so gratifyingly appreciative. Next time, she would feed him some grapes or something while the polish dried.

"I won't use it anymore, then," she said simply and tickled his bare tummy, thus restoring his good mood.

All things considered, he supposed that having his nails done by a half-naked woman was a pretty fair deal, even without extra fussing. He regarded her lovely female form with approval. Her tank top had been discarded and she wore only an intricate design of blue and green eye shadow, along with the grey pajama pants that were now speckled with pink, orange, blue and green. Yes, pretty fair deal, at that.

Well, if he couldn't be coddled at the moment, perhaps he would move things along toward being cuddled.

He abruptly hopped off the bed and started strutting back and forth across the floor, flexing and preening for her. He was colorfully smudged with pink lipstick, orange cheese puff powder, and blue and green eye shadow. His hair was streaked with color and in wild disarray. He pirouetted and gracefully performed an arabesque. He moved nimbly about the bed chamber in graceful and surprisingly credible balletic steps. His languid movements became rougher and more blatantly sexual, as the classical dance moves quickly evolved into an energetic, hip swiveling, hair flying, booty shaking display. A faint blush arose on her cheeks at the sight. He really did look good twisting his lithe frame around the room, and the cheese puff colored handprint on the grey fabric covering his crotch actually seemed to add to the show. It was, after all, her handprint, and it brought to mind just how pleasing it was to touch him.

He leered at her through his ridiculously long lashes, showing a sharp toothed and somewhat menacing smile. He proceeded to perform a rather elaborate strip tease with his extremely wrinkled and cheesy powder smudged shirt.

Sarah had come to Jareth's bed as an innocent, so she hadn't much of a basis for comparison, but she was pretty sure that his odd dance recitals weren't routine behavior for human male foreplay, or at least humanoid male, since he wasn't strictly human. The first time he had performed his elaborate dance for her, she had been a little confused. Fortunately, she had enough acumen to refrain from laughing at him. She could laugh WITH Jareth all day long, and frequently did, but laughing AT him was sure to provoke hurt feelings and angry recriminations. As far as his odd foreplay dance, she had simply decided that he was, well, different, and she was okay with that. While she had seen his dance routines many times, his dancing did seem to be reserved for special occasions, although what constituted a special dancing occasion for Jareth wasn't entirely clear. She had come to enjoy his unusual performances as he was definitely worth looking at and it was obvious he was putting on the show for her benefit. When she had run across a book in the castle library that described the mating dances of various bird species, it had become clear as to what was going on. Strictly speaking, a typical barn owl didn't perform a dance during its mating display, but then, few would ever make the mistake of calling Jareth 'typical' and he was a dancing machine.

"Oh, it's going to be one of THOSE days," she thought to herself, and she began to grab colorful tubes and compacts and frantically stuff them into the cosmetic bag. She quickly searched for any hiding makeup containers, because things were about to get very atypical and small objects could be broken.

The entire bed shook when he leapt onto it and began stomping about, waving his removed shirt like a flag and deliberately making the mattress bounce. His exertions bounced a jar of loose powdered body glitter with an insecure cap high into flight. The cap came loose and glitter exploded into the air.

He was thrilled.

"Woo hoo!" he hooted and swung his shirt through the cloud of glitter, dispersing it even further. The gold dust hovered and danced in the early afternoon sunlight pouring in through the window and began to slowly descend over everything.

She grinned up at him when he stood over her. He tossed his shirt onto the floor behind him and hunkered down over her, grasping the sides of her head and giving her a moist, noisy kiss on her mouth. She squealed when he grabbed the waistband of her pajama pants and started to drag them off of her, wearing a look of gleeful amusement at her reaction.

"Hey, you," she complained, "those are new!"

"Off with your pants!" he shouted merrily, tossing the pajama pants onto the floor alongside his shirt. The pants were a bit stretched out now, but had survived. He made another grab at her. She shrieked with laughter and tried to wriggle away, but he was too quick. The removal of the pajama pants had already dragged her panties halfway down her thighs and he pulled them past her feet with ease.

"And that goes for your little panties, too," he crowed. He proudly displayed the lacy bit of fabric and then tucked a corner of it into the waistband of his breeches, before parading around on the bed, still bouncing the mattress on purpose, flinging glitter back into the air; the conquering hero, wearing his trophy. He was singing a little tune, making it up as he stomped along, concerning the various things he was going to do to her.

"I'm going to pick you up. Turn you upside down. Stick my fingers…"

"Jareth!" she interrupted.

"… and wiggle them around," he sang. "What?" he said, pausing to look down at her. He was a bit out of breath from his stomping.

She collected the colorfully smeared, glittering, formerly white sheet and covered herself with it.

He gave her an imperious look and pointed a finger at her.

"Lose the sheet," he commanded, eyes dark and threatening.

"Lose the pants," she replied, not in the least bit intimidated.

One side of his mouth curled into a half grin and he calmly stepped over to her. The not-a-typical-owl dance was over.

He stood quietly looking down at her with affection glowing in his eyes. She discarded the sheet and reached to undo the fastenings on his breeches. She pulled the waistband down to his knees, noting that he had found the dancing to be quite stimulating.

"Sit," she said.

He folded up and sat down, extending his feet in front of him so she could pull his breeches completely off. She tossed the pants onto the floor and pushed the sheet aside.

They both sat still for a moment, trading heated and appreciative glances. They were naked and unashamed, relaxed and comfortable in the pleasant warmth of the brightly sunlit room.

He moved over to her and burrowed his face into the hollow of her neck, inhaling her scent. She enfolded him in her arms and cuddled up to him. They billed and cooed, all wrapped up in one another. He told her that she was beautiful and clever. She told him how much she liked his dancing. He told her what he was going to do to her body with his body and how good he was going to make her feel. She told him how much she was looking forward to that, and made some additional suggestions. He told her that he was her slave. She told him that she was going to whip him good. He tickled her and she giggled.

He abruptly took hold of her ankles and pulled her onto her back. A bright sunbeam fell across her and caught the flecks of glitter on her breasts.

"Hey, now" she grumbled, but he ignored her protests and grabbed a pillow which he gently placed beneath her head. He stretched out beside her in the sunlight and curled against her to share her pillow. He idly ran his fingers over her, disturbing the blue and green designs he had brushed onto her earlier. Words ceased and the room became silent.

Her eyes were closed and the only sounds she heard were that of their mingled breathing, the churning liquid clicks of his tongue and mouth as he nibbled and licked at her throat, and the whispering brush of skin against skin. His hand was sliding down her torso and questing between her legs, as he moved and pressed his entire body against hers. Her heart was thudding in her chest and want was humming in her veins.

He lifted his head and looked into her face while continuing to snuggle and move against her. "Who has the power right this minute, love?" he murmured.

He often played this game during their lovemaking, whimsically asking this question. She always let him win. They both knew she would let him win. He was seeking and she was giving reassurance. Her long ago dismissal and his defeat had never left him. She had wounded him more deeply than he would ever admit and dragged his desperately concealed loneliness and sadness into the light. She had come to understand that her bird-like, inhuman darling had completely imprinted on her during her passage through the Labyrinth. He had dared to hope and dared to dream. She had almost destroyed him when she took the child and left.

She took his face in her hands, delicately rubbing her thumb across his lower lip. "You have the power," she smiled into his eyes and gave him strength. She pulled him toward her and spoke into his ear. "You have the power" she whispered and gave him comfort. "You have the power," she said and putting her hand on his waist, pulled him to her, giving him heat and fire.

She ran her hand down his side and felt muscles bunching and relaxing. She patted and rubbed, finding his ribs and tracing them around to his back. She ran her red nails gently scratching down his spine and grasped his slender waist, examining the texture of his warm skin. She loved to touch him. She could have her hands on him all day long and never tire of it.

Uttering a sigh, he rolled onto her and enveloped her with his arms. He buried his face in the heated joining of her shoulder and neck and whispered dark and sugared promises of imminent insertion and frenzied activity upon her person. His voice vibrated through his chest, breathed hot upon her neck, hummed in her ear and sizzled into her veins. Her entire body loosened and ached for him. His voice was dark purple and velvet winding around her, sending a frisson of delight down her spine, shivering her bones and stirring embers in her center. Her hands were all over him with growing impatience.

He lifted himself off of her and grasping her by the hip and shoulder, he rolled her onto her stomach. She wore a blissful expression as he pulled a pillow to her side and made to lift her. She raised her hips to allow him to slide the pillow beneath her. She stifled a giggle as he busily adjusted her position to his satisfaction. She crossed her arms under her head and rested her chin on her forearms.

"You have a lovely backside," he said happily, as he sat back, straddling her thighs, admiring the sunlight hitting her skin and then she did giggle.

"What are you laughing at?" he said and lightly swatted her rear just to see the succulent flesh jiggle. He was interested to note that there was sunlit glitter all over her fanny. The combination of glitter and jiggle was absolutely entrancing. He swatted her again.

"Play nicely with your toys or they'll be taken away," she said in a husky voice, turning her head to give him a sidelong smile. He grinned back at her, gently kneading her silky, bouncy rump.

He slid his fingers with their glittering blue nails down her backside to the back of her thighs and explored. When he found a softly warm, wet and inviting spot, he slipped his fingers inside. She made a little sound of pleasure and trembled beneath him. He recalled the words to his hastily made up song and wiggled his fingers around.

Her head came up with a gasp and she arched her back. He knew an invitation when he saw one and taking hold of her hips, he eased within. He then leaned forward and draped himself over her.

His body, so familiar to her and yet so alien, was a sweet and overwhelming invasion when he joined her. She could feel his heart thumping against her back as he hugged himself to her.

He nuzzled into her neck again, inhaling her familiar scent and hugged tight. He began to move slowly and deliberately, his eyes hidden in the tangle of his blond hair, staring fixedly at nothing. His purposeful movement inside her was as if he were investigating; a side to side inquiry, then a deep and exploring probe, examining and discovering her within.

"He's feeling of me," she thought and fire caught in her belly. She squirmed and attempted to match his movements. She was panting for air and making little whimpering sounds with each gasp. A hot and quivering ball of want was curling and twisting in her and he was poking at it.

He began to poke a little harder then, clutching at her shoulders, pinning her down. She was thoroughly enjoying his male strength and muscle. She liked that he was so strong. She liked being held tight. She liked his hard and angular male structure; the deep timbre of his voice. She liked that he was deep inside her, filling her; on top of her, holding her down; gently holding the back of her neck with his teeth, his hot breath panting on her.

He quickly let go of her with his teeth when she shuddered beneath him, and pressed the side of his face against her shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned when she cried out and convulsed around him. He moved against her with quick, short thrusts, knowing what she liked, giving her what she needed.

When she cried out again, he raised up and leaned back, still moving, wanting to see that enticing, glittery jiggle of flesh that would accompany her fulfillment. He was not disappointed, and the enchanting sight of her pleasure brought his own release.

He rolled off of her and lay still for a moment, catching his breath, one hand extended to touch her waist.

She rolled onto her side, facing him, smiling drowsily at him with half-closed eyes. Her hair seemed to be full of glitter. She was glowing in the sunlight.

She scooted over to be next to him, pulling a puffy, color smeared pillow along with her.

"Roll over," she said. He rolled so his back was to her. She moved over, placed the rumpled pillow so that they could share it, and spooned him. She slipped her arm under his neck between his shoulder and head, and bent her arm back across his chest. She wrapped her other arm around his waist and began to rub his sleek, damp and slightly sticky tummy. He sighed and relaxed against her. She cuddled up to his warm back and putting her nose into his tangled hair, blissfully breathed in his familiar scent. She whispered secrets in his ear, telling him just how much she liked what he did and praising his many talents. He told her just how adorable her behind was. She gave his bottom a little pinch. He laughed.

The golden afternoon sun poured in the window and washed over their tired, color smudged bodies. A faint layer of glitter covered them and twinkled in the sunlight. They snuggled in the warmth and both were sleep within minutes.

**_Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah_**

_You will note that there is no mention of birth control or children in our little story. While these are important discussions that should take place long before sex does, this is an established relationship of some duration and those decisions have already been made. Feel free to dream up whatever you want on that subject._

_For an idea of what I was thinking when I envisioned Jareth's not-a-typical-owl dance, see the link on my profile page._

_Reviews are as beautiful and shiny as an explosion of glitter._


	5. Chapter 5: Lather, Rinse, Repeat

_This is a Labyrinth fanfic. All characters belong to Henson, et al._

**_THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR MATURE READERS DUE TO LEMONY GOODNESS._**

**_I feel there should be some warning here that things will be escalated a bit from last chapter. I will reiterate that nothing bad is going to happen to anyone and both characters will be happy all the way through. I have been careful to avoid being too graphic, but there should be no doubt about what is going on. Feel free to skip this chapter if you're at all timid._**

**Color, Magic Color**

Chapter 5

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

They sprawled across the bed, loosely spooned, with her leg draped over his hip, and her face nuzzled into the back of his neck. Cuddled in the warmth of each other's bodies, they both drowsed in the afternoon sun that fell across the rumpled, smudged and colorful sheets.

They were dressed in nothing but smears of color. Pink lipstick coated their mouths and throats, and traced through their hair. Pink kiss prints randomly adorned the lengths of both their bodies from head to toe. She had blue and green eye shadow covering most of her chest, throat and stomach, the sides of her face, and her eyelids, save where his kisses had blurred and removed the blue and green colors, replacing them with pink. Smears of blue and green were on his mouth, one side of his face and in his hair. Glittering blue nail polish covered his fingernails and toenails. Red nail polish adorned her nails. Orange cheese puff powder was everywhere; on the sheets, on their bodies and in their hair, while a generous helping of golden glitter was sprinkled over everything. A clearly defined set of his boot prints marked the sheets.

She rolled onto her back. Putting her arms over her head and pointing her toes, she stretched out, pulling every muscle tight and then relaxing with a satisfied groan. She flung her arm out to the side and hit something that crackled and crunched.

She lifted her head to see the cheese puff bag, still containing quite a few cheese puffs. She grabbed it and made to toss it off the bed. Sadly, the bag was open and her efforts only managed to launch the remaining cheese puffs and orange cheesy powder from the bag and scatter the orange debris over both of them.

"Oh, nuts!" she snapped, wiping ineffectively at the mess.

"Gah! What did you do?" he said, rousing up to find cheesy powder and random puffs scattered over him. "Why do you have cheese puffs in the bed, anyway?" he griped. "This is revolting."

"Didn't hear you complaining earlier," she said, "besides, a little cheese puff powder isn't going to hurt you."

"Bollocks," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I think it's time these sheets were changed," she said, "and you look like a crayon box exploded on you. You could use a bath."

"I think we could both use a good scrub, my grubby little Queen," he remarked, his good humor suddenly restored. He arose from the bed, tossed the entangling sheet onto the floor, and struck a pose for her. He was clad in nothing more than his own colorfully daubed skin and an attitude of smug satisfaction.

She gave him a narrow glare and then scrambled out of the bed and made a grab for him. He shuffled backward, eluding her grasp. His retreat ended when he backed into the wall next to the bathroom door. She opened the door and grabbed his slender waist to turn him around.

He was grinning from ear to ear as she pushed him into the bathroom, her hands seeming to be all over him, her breath warm on his neck, her body warm against him. Her touch glided down his back to gather double handfuls of his sleek behind.

"Haven't you had enough?" he said with mock indignation. "I'm fairly worn out from your assaults upon my person."

"Just get the sheets changed, Your Royal Hiney," she said and after an extra squeeze, let go of him. She was carefully hiding her desire and excitement, full of a secret plan waiting to unfold.

While he summoned a crystal and sent it off to the maid with instructions for sheet changing, she wandered around the corner to the necessary. She quickly did her business and flushed. When she came back around the corner, she found him leaning against the wall and humming, waiting his turn.

She pulled a washcloth from a brass wire shelf loaded with cloths and towels, and began to peruse the assortment of soap cakes artfully arranged in a basket. She looked up to find he was already back. She wondered, for the umpteenth time, why he was so much faster, and concluded it must have something to do with standing instead of sitting. She selected a nice soap cake and turned to the shower room.

The bath was a sizable room with surprisingly modern conveniences, gleaming white porcelain fixtures with copper and brass fittings, steamy warm water, even completely separate, conservation-minded drain lines for the fixtures. While the necessary, for instance, drained into the Bog, the shower drain irrigated the castle flower gardens. A nice long shower wasn't decadent, it was a nice way of watering the roses, or so Sarah told herself those times she lounged about under the water until her fingers wrinkled. The shower was a room in and of itself, approximately six feet by six feet, with four polished white quartz walls, accessed through an arched opening. Gleaming brass handles controlled the water that fell from a slotted panel in the middle of the shower room. A small nozzle next to the handles allowed a user to select the perfect temperature before turning on the overhead shower. Beneath the brass fixtures, a quartz stone bench lined the wall and soft lighting gleamed from frosted panels in all four walls.

She walked into the shower room carrying her washcloth and happily sniffing a lovely sandalwood soap cake. He followed her, holding a bottle of pricey shampoo acquired on a trip Above. She made a sound of annoyance when she suddenly dropped her washcloth and the soap onto the floor.

"Oh, fiddle," she muttered.

He sat the pricey shampoo bottle on the stone bench, and gallantly saying "Allow me," he reached for the dropped soap.

In that moment while he was reaching for the slippery quarry, while her heart was hammering with excitement and anticipation, she took her right index finger, the finger with the short, ground-down, smooth, sparkling red fingernail and wantonly touched herself in an indiscreet place, a place hot and wet with thrilled excitement. She grasped his shoulder with her left hand and then took her wetly anointed finger coated with desire and touched him, in a new place, a place most unexpected, and gently pushed.

He jolted forward in surprise and nearly smacked his skull into the stone wall of the shower. If she hadn't placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, he might have done himself an injury. They both froze in place. He was still bent over. She still held his shoulder with her left hand, and her right hand was in a far more intimate place.

"I promise I'll be careful, but I won't do this if you don't want it," she said quietly.

He was speechless and seemed completely dumbfounded by this unexpected turn of events.

"You have to say the right words, Jareth. No, if you want me to stop. Yes, if you want me to continue," she said. She hesitated a moment and then bent over him and whispered into his ear, "I'll do whatever you want."

He turned his head and looked at her with stunned blue eyes. He was bewildered as to what she might intend and how far she might take this enticing, frightening, tempting, scary act. He was beyond excited by the sudden prospect of this new game, but also a little skittish. Her enthusiasm still occasionally exceeded her expertise and he most sincerely did not want to be bruised there.

However, he was a clever and observant sort, and although he had refrained from mentioning it, the one particularly short and smooth, red fingernail on her hand had not escaped his attention. He was beginning to grasp that she had been planning this. She had been thinking of him and making plans; plans to do something sexy to him. A delightful feeling of being CARED FOR tingled through him.

She could still surprise him when she did things just for him, just because, without requiring anything from him in bargain. He was getting used to the idea, but she could still surprise him, and he felt, in that moment, that she had hung the moon and moved the stars just for him. He had been King of the Unwanted and the Wished Away for so long, but now he was wanted. She wanted him. She stood in the center of his universe. He would kill for her. He would die for her.

And at this moment, he really, really hoped she would be careful.

His libido shored up his courage and they both toddled off to kick his brain back into gear. Finally in a soft, nearly inaudible voice, he said "yes."

She kissed him on his shoulder and softly instructed him to place his hands on the wall in front of him and spread his feet apart a bit. He held her glance and complied.

"Have you been reading your scandalous books again, Sarah?" he asked in an unsteady voice.

"Nah," she said. "I just look at the pictures."

He gasped out a short laugh and then hung his head when she ran her left hand down his back and underneath to his stomach.

"Relax, Jareth," she soothed. She leaned over him and kissed his nape and then began to rub his stomach slowly and smoothly. She continued to kiss and snuggle against him, whispering things into his ear, telling secrets, and making promises. She held her right hand perfectly still until she could feel his muscles begin to loosen.

"That's better," she said. "I want to make you feel good." Her words breathed hot against his skin and he quivered. "I want to make you happy," she whispered.

She began to gently, slowly press into him with her smooth, wetly slick, carefully prepared index finger while rubbing his sleek tummy with her left hand. She rubbed her cheek against the bunching muscles on his smooth shoulders. He was warm and he smelled good and when she touched his skin with her tongue, she could taste the tang of his sweat. His shaggy, yellow mop of unkempt hair was damp with perspiration and clinging to his back. She regarded his slender physique with possessive satisfaction. He really was magnificent to look at and lovely to touch. She slid her left hand lower and when she grasped him, she found that he was extremely excited by her game. She began to caress and stroke. As the moments passed, he began to rock back and forth with the slow motion of her left hand.

"Do you like this?" she asked, turning her right hand a tiny bit. "I'm not hurting, am I?" she said, pushing forward a tiny bit more. As her welcome invasion gradually advanced, and sometimes retreated, as she gently bent and oh, so carefully, twirled her finger, she alternated between kissing him and purring sweet lovelies to him. "Do you want more?" She kissed and nuzzled, "Does this feel good?" She murmured soft, enticing whispers while she licked the hot flesh covering his spine.

His half-incoherent, moaning answers attempted to assure her that she wasn't hurting him and that he was, in fact, enjoying her attentions very much.

Judging from his impressive response, her left hand had a pretty good idea of what her right hand was doing. He was breathing heavily, his teeth biting his lower lip, eyes closed, with a soft moan rumbling in his throat. She gently continued pushing until she could go no farther. While he shivered and panted, she carefully turned her right palm downward and then gently, but firmly flexed her finger. His reaction was immediate and shocking. She was thoroughly pleased when he bucked and thrust but was completely astounded when he actually screamed in release.

She held his trembling body while he regained his breath. Her careful withdrawal elicited a soft breathy sigh from him. She was nearly bursting with suppressed glee and her own heated desire. She licked her lips with satisfaction and a great deal of personal pride. From his delicious and startling response, there could be no doubt that she had just rocked his glittery world.

Let's hear it for the Queen and her scandalous books, she thought.

She gently pulled him upright and kissed his soft lips, smiling into his sparkling, tear-blurred eyes. He stood docilely, wearing a foolish smile as she turned on the copper tap and adjusted the temperature. When she was satisfied with the steamy warmth, she turned a brass fitting and water sluiced from a slotted panel in the low shower ceiling. As the water softly rained down over their heads, she knelt and snagged the errant soap cake from the floor along with the washcloth she had deliberately dropped. She draped the washcloth over her shoulder, gazing into his eyes with a cheeky grin, as she carefully soaped and washed her right hand, flexing and turning her smoothly short-nailed index finger, holding it up for his inspection and making wicked little circles in the air. He leaned against the wall and let the warm water roll down his weary flesh as he regarded her with doe-eyed worship. She pulled the washcloth from her shoulder, worked up a soapy lather with it and then slowly and lovingly soaped him up, supplying tender kisses all the while.

She brushed his wet hair out of his eyes. "Did I please you?" she breathed into his ear.

"Yes," he said simply, too awash in feeling to elaborate. He quietly submitted to her attentions with the sudsy washcloth, bemused by events. He believed that she had certainly done her homework this time.

He had endless fun teasing her about her reading material, but he was aware that she was seeking more than mere titillation. He knew that she was researching, looking for ways to please him. He was humbly and gratefully awed by that fact. His teasing was an attempt to deflect his own emotions concerning the matter. He feared that if he were ever to be completely honest with her about the tenderness of his feelings for her and the depth of his gratitude for her considerations, he would likely find himself lying in a puddle of his own tears, kissing her feet.

That hardly seemed dignified.

He bestirred himself to take a few steps and reached out of the shower to pull a fluffy washcloth from the adjacent shelf packed with towels, cloths, and a myriad of scented soaps. He moved back under the warm rain, took the lumpy soap cake from her hands and lathered up his cloth. He began to gently wash the green and blue eye shadow from her face and throat, pausing now and then to kiss or nuzzle her.

She clasped her hands together behind his neck and began to sway from side to side in a slow, slow dance, humming softly. He started to hum and moved along with her, his smooth baritone harmonizing an octave lower. He gently washed the pink from her face and the blue and green from her torso, taking great care and enjoyment in doing so. He was very thorough, carefully making sure the color was completely removed from her breasts, and then making sure again. She stopped her humming as her breathing became a bit unsteady.

He, on the other hand, began to sing softly to her; a familiar song, a song he had made just for her, a soft song filled with gentle, tender, loving words, a song he only ever sang for her. He moved his washcloth considerably lower and concentrated his efforts in a smaller area. He rubbed the cloth on her with his palm, while his fingers… slipped in.

She breathed in sharply and bit her lower lip. He put his arm around her waist to hold her up and, still singing, began to work on her in earnest. She was still rather excited from her triumphant success of a few minutes before, and his touch felt like the sweet reward for her efforts. His fingers teased while his voice vibrated through her, setting her nerve endings to humming like tightly strung wires. The fire quickly flared up and burned through her in moments. He was a bit surprised at how quickly it was all over. He paused for a moment in his singing to kiss her sweet face as she panted on his shoulder. He sang the last verse softly into her ear, holding her up and swaying gently from side to side.

When she had caught her breath, and he had finished his song, he reapplied soap and rinsed, casually this time, with no other intent than cleanliness. She stood quietly, eyes closed, with her head tilted back, letting the water run over her face and down her back, rinsing the soap bubbles away.

She opened her eyes and reached for the pricey shampoo and popped the lid open. It smelled of strawberries. She poured a generous amount into her palm and then offered the bottle to him. He simply held his palm up and she poured an equal amount into his hand and recapped and placed the bottle back on the bench.

He began to swirl the shampoo into her silky brown hair, gently massaging her scalp and the back of her neck. He bent his head down so she could do the same for him. She worked the shampoo into his wet hair and gently scratched with her nails over his head. He uttered a long, low groan of pleasure and ran his hands down over her slender shoulders as the warm, warm water rinsed the shampoo from their hair.

"You like that?" she teased.

"You seriously have to ask?" he said with an amused chuckle.

"I think I've got all the orange stuff out of your hair," she said.

"That's a relief," he said. "I don't think it's my color."

"I love you," she said.

"I love you more," he replied.

"I love you most," she answered.

"Always have to win, don't you?" he sighed.

He wrapped his arms around her and she snuggled into him, placing her head on his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against her head and sighed contentedly as warmth rained down over them. They stood in companionable silence as the water rinsed the tinted, sudsy remnants of their play from their bodies.

"You know," he said. "I'm getting rather hungry."

"We've had nothing but cheese puffs," she murmured. "I'm a little hungry, myself."

"I'd like to cover you with chicken salad and lick it off," he mused.

She snorted with laughter. "That's not as sexy as you think it is."

"Of course it is," he said. "Because we'll have to take another shower."

"Did you like your shower today?" she asked.

He growled and hugged her tight. She wore a serenely triumphant smile as she snuggled into his embrace. The last of the glitter rinsed out of their hair and down their backs with the warm water.

Pastel hues swirled and shimmered on the soap bubbles as the warm water gurgled around their feet. The pigments sluiced down the drain, through the pipes and out into the irrigation ditches of the castle flower garden wildly blooming with color, magic color.

The End

**_Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah&Loves&Jareth&Loves&Sarah_**

_This was a writing exercise. My intent was to depict a loving, consensual, humorous, established relationship between two adult characters; a relationship with affection, a little silliness and some different and interesting quirks (heh). I have attempted to describe the activities herein in a manner that leaves no question about what is going on, but is not vulgar or particularly graphic. I am more interested in what is going on in the emotional landscape, rather than the physical, and have tried to describe this without being overly sweet. My goal was to establish tone and mood, adhere to a theme, work with characterization and maintain continuity across five chapters._

_This concludes my writing exercise. If you believe that I have (or have not) accomplished my objectives in writing this story, please let me know. All constructive criticism is appreciated._

_Reviews are as lovely as the castle flower garden in full bloom._


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